Forgotten
by Nera Mornit
Summary: James Potter awakens in a stone prison, reliving his last, horrible memories over and over again without any knowledge of what has happened to him and where or when he is. This story takes place a few weeks after Order of the Phoenix comes to a close.
1. Imprisonment

A/N: One of my first fanfics. I don't mind criticism as long as it's constructive, so review away.

"_Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!"_

_Voices...at the door...laughter, high-pitched and maniacal as the portal exploded inward, sending fragments of wood flying everywhere. It was all happening slowly, and seemed so very far away. Unreal, like one of those Muggle movies Lily had taken him to._

_Lily!_

_The memory--was it a memory, it seemed so real now--was a poignant one. Green light flashing all around, Lily's body descending slowly, so slowly toward the floor as baby Harry cried. More laughter._

James screamed and sat up quickly, gasping into his knees, his first glance taking in the unblemished stone that enclosed him. He looked around slowly, wondering what in Merlin's name was going on.

_Pain. Red light. A cackling voice. Agony, more intense than he could even imagine. He was being dragged somewhere. Away from Lily and Harry. His limbs flailed helplessly as he tried to make it stop. Light flashed again._

He looked around again. Everything was stone, even the bed-like platform he lay upon. He jumped to his feet, but a split second later his legs crumpled beneath him like so much cloth and he lay limp on the ground with his face pressed to the floor.

He managed to pull himself up into a sitting position. What was happening?

_"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!"_

What was going on?

_There were voices outside the door, accompanied by a high-pitched laughter that was unmistakable. Time seemed to slow as the door exploded, pieces of wood flying everywhere._

He pushed the memories away, but only managed to hold them off for a moment before they returned in full force.

_He was stunned. He must have been. He couldn't move, couldn't feel, could only watch as green light flashed and Lily fell unblemished but unmistakably dead to the floor. Harry screamed._

What was happening to him? Why was he seeing the same thing over and o--

_"Lily, take Harry and go!"_

"NO!" James shouted, and the images and sounds vanished like a flock of spooked sheep. He looked around for the fourth time, trying to figure out what in the world was going on here.

He beat one fist against the wall, but the sound he received was that of solid rock. Groaning, he used the stone platform to pull himself to his feet. He ached all over, like he had been lying on that thing for ten years.

Silently, he looked himself over. He was dressed in a plain gray robe, and a thin band of metal encircled each of his wrists. Obviously cursed. He needed a wand. Where was his? What had happe--

_"Lily, take Harry and--"_

"No!" he shouted again, this time not quite as loud, and the memory went scurrying away again. What had happened to him? He could remember nothing past the flash of green light that sent Lily to the ground. Had that even really occurred? Maybe he was just dreaming. The sound of footsteps coming from somewhere outside his enclosure convinced him that now was most definitely not the time to find out. They must have heard him shouting.

He pulled himself back onto the stone pallet, laying his arms at his sides and closing his eyes. Heart hammering in his ears, he tried to mimic the rhythm of normal breathing.

The sound of stone grating on stone tore at his ears, and he had to fight to keep his face straight as someone stepped into the chamber. He managed to crack one eye open, but could see nothing but a deeply cowled black robe.

"Ah, Potter, if only you could see yourself now," chuckled a vaguely familiar voice. It whispered an ominous-sounding incantation and James heard the swish of a wand through the air.

_"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!"_

This time, the memories could not be resisted.


	2. Escape

Drowning. He was drowning. Each time he tried to surface another wave would wash over him, forcing him back down into the depths of his mind.

_Someone was screaming. It sounded like Lily. The door of their home burst in over and over again. Green light exploded and Lily fell, dead, a thousand, thousand times. Harry cried._

"Ah, Potter, if only you could see yourself now."

He knew that voice. Remembered it from...somewhere. It was so familiar, as if he had known it all his life. It was important. Somehow.

_"Lily, take Harry and Go!" he shouted. "It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!" His own voice seemed far away._

It isn't real.

_Lily was stumbling across the room. Someone was laughing, a horrible, high-pitched sound that made his skin crawl. An explosion, then pieces of wood flying in all directions, impossibly slowly. _

They were just memories. It wasn't happening. The small part of his mind that had managed to resist was getting fainter and fainter.

Pain. He couldn't move, only watch, as Lily was murdered. Harry started to cry. James tried to move, but his limbs wouldn't respond. It wasn't possible. The Fidelius charm. Sirius's bluff. Peter had gone into hiding.

Peter! The voice was Peter's.

_He was being dragged away. Away from Harry. His son was still crying. He tried to fight, but his arms and legs waved ineffectually. This wasn't possible._

Peter. The voice in the back of his mind was growing stronger now.

_Voldemort stood over Harry and waved his wand. He couldn't. James had to stop him._

Peter had betrayed them. He had been the spy. It had been Peter all along.

Pure, white-hot rage gave him the strength to break free. He lunged at Peter, bowling over the shrunken, balding little man and pummeling him with his fists.

It was quite some time before his rage played out and he thought to take the man's wand. By then, Peter was a bleeding mass of bruises.

"What is going on?" he asked the traitorous rat. "Where am I?"

Peter squeaked instead of replying, staring fearfully at the wand pointed directly between his eyes.

"Give me a reason, Peter," he whispered in the deadliest voice he could manage. He didn't think he could have actually done it, but Peter didn't know that. He gave another frightened squeak.

"Wales."

"Where's my wand? My glasses?"

Peter, trembling, whispered, "I don't know."

"What are these?" He held up one wrist to display the thin band of metal.

"Th-they make you more susceptible to the magic."

"What's happened to me?" When Peter didn't reply, he shook him so hard his teeth chattered. "What have you done to me?" he shouted.

"Nothing," the rodent-like man whimpered. "Just a charm, a simple charm! To make you--"

"Remember," James breathed. The screaming in his head increased in intensity. Insane laughter echoed off the inside of his skull. He could almost see Lily falling slowly to the ground.

"How long?" he demanded, shaking Peter again. "Why?"

"Years!" Peter was laughing now. "More than a decade!"

"Why?"

"The Dark Lord came for you himself. Did you truly expect him to let you die?" Peter's eyes were darting back and forth.

James punched him in the face. "Don't even think about transforming." His anger was building again. The laughter grew louder.

Peter was laughing again. "They're all dead. You're alone, James Potter. All alone. By those few that remain, you're all but forgotten. They fight for their survival like--"

His anger overcame him completely, and he slammed Pettigrew so hard against the floor that he was knocked unconscious, immediately wishing he hadn't. Had he been telling the truth? Were they all dead? Peter had looked desperate when he said that last. But then, in truth, Peter had always looked desperate.

One thing at a time. He had to escape. There was a door in here, somewhere. But were there others here? More Death Eaters? He didn't know how many he could hold off with Peter's wand. It was probably the most incompatible match possible.

Or he could Apparate. One quick swish of his wand and--

No. He wasn't thinking clearly. Attempting to Apparate with Peter's wand without at least knowing where he really was and in what direction he was headed was an almost certain way to get himself splinched. At the moment he didn't have much of a destination in mind, and it was doubtful that he was actually in Wales.

One thing at a time, he reminded himself again. He examined the band around his wrist carefully and decided that cursing it off was probably not a good idea. The metal was thin enough that he'd probably slit his own wrist in the process.

There was a small hole on each of the bracers. Well, it was worth a try.

"Alohomora," he whispered, pointing the wand at his left wrist.

Nothing happened. James set down the wand and searched Pettigrew for a key. Several minutes had passed by the time he'd finally found it. Would they come looking for Pettigrew? Was there even anyone else here?

They came off easily. Now where to go?

He had to get outside. Away from here. The screaming and laughter had lessened, but it was not gone entirely. Maybe outside it would be better.

He needed a plan. He'd spent his entire Hogwarts career sneaking out of places or into other ones. To escape, he had to get out of this room, find his way outside, and acquaint himself at least partially with the surroundings so he could Apparate away.

It was difficult to think clearly. A nagging worry over whether or not Peter's last words had been true distracted him every time he tried to organize his thoughts. If it was not that, then it was Lily, or Harry, or the other two Marauders. The only plan he could come up with involved blasting his way through a wall of solid rock.

Peter's wand seemed to disagree with him. His Reductor Curse made a dent about a centimeter deep in the stone, and James couldn't be entirely sure that it wasn't there before.

He had to Apparate. It was his only choice, unless he wanted to sit there and wait for a Death Eater to show up or starve to death in the room.

Concentrating, he drew himself up and closed his eyes, imagining the cell around him. _Outside_, he thought. _Outside_. He waved Peter's wand. There was a loud crack, and then he was falling.


	3. Eternity

The pain in his head was very literally blinding him. All James could see was a bright light shining between his cracked open eyelids. Had he splinched himself?

A sharp pain in his lower leg dismissed that notion. He'd never been splinched before, but he doubted that he would still be able to feel a part of his body he'd left behind. That was one thing at least. He forced his eyes open a little further and stared, amazed. The blinding light was the sun. He was outside!

Grunting, he forced himself to sit up and take a look around, but nothing there seemed capable of aiding him. The overgrown tangle of grass that surrounded him gradually gave way to shrubs and a few trees, but there was no visible sign of habitation. Not that he expected it.

Where to go from here was the question. James wasn't sure whether or not Peter had been lying to him, but it was almost inconceivable that Dumbledore could be gone, and Dumbledore meant Hogwarts. It appeared to be summer, but Dumbledore should be there.

If Hogwarts was still standing. True, it seemed impossible that the school could be gone, but it also seemed impossible that Peter could have betrayed them. Had it just been Peter? What about the others?

He'd figure that out later, he decided finally. The chances of being able to successfully Apparate to Hogwarts with Peter's wand and no idea of where he was were slim. He'd have to find a landmark, or a village.

That was it. He'd figure out where he was and go to Hogwarts, if it was still there. If not, London. Sirius had a house there. Maybe he was still around.

Maybe he was still alive.

No. Sirius was alive, just as Remus was alive, just as Dumbledore was alive, until someone he could actually trust said otherwise, as was Harry. He'd seen Lily die, there was no questioning that now, but it was possible that Harry survived.

He stood slowly, looking for anything remotely informative. A few birds flew by, but nothing more. The trees continued off toward the south, at least he thought it was south, but they weren't really thick enough to be an identifiable forest.

He lay Peter's wand in the flat of his palm. "Point me," he whispered. It spun several times and stopped so that it was pointing toward the trees.

Well, he had never had the greatest sense of direction, even as a stag. He looked around again. Traveling as a stag would be much easier.

He formed the picture of Prongs in his mind, down to the last branch of the antlers, and willed himself to flow into that shape. It was slow, much slower than a transformation should have been. Some lingering side effect of the bracers? It had to be, though he didn't see how they would affect that.

Now to pick a direction. He could probably assume that he wasn't anywhere near Wales, but where exactly? Perhaps if he could find another deer he could communicate. It had always worked in the Forbidden Forest.

He found a doe eventually, who informed him that he was really much closer to Hogwarts than he had thought. It would only be a few days' travel to what the deer called "the magic trees." She even thought to warn him, though somewhat cryptically, of the Whomping Willow.

The first day stayed sunny. He stopped a few times to drink, and once to pick a few berries. Grass had never appealed to James tremendously. The second day was much the same, but by the time he hit the edge of the Forbidden Forest on the third it was beginning to drizzle.

James began to feel nervous. Was the castle there? Voldemort might have left the forest standing even if the castle fell, as it was full of dangerous creatures, but it seemed more like the evil wizard to destroy anything even remotely reminiscent of Albus Dumbledore. Hopefully he was right.

His first glimpse of Hogwarts took his breath away as thoroughly as it had when he'd been a first year crossing the lake for the first time on a stormy fall evening. Dark, threatening clouds framed the castle, but just as he remembered it, it stood as though nothing, not even pure darkness, could ever threaten the ancient stones.

He changed back on the steps just before the main doors, and was both relieved and concerned to find the entrance unlocked. Did they lock the doors over the summer?

He sprinted down the hallways and up to the second floor, where Dumbledore's gargoyle waited, just as always. He pounded on the wall beside it several times, but got no response.

"Sweets," he gasped to himself. The passwords had always been sweets. "Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans." The gargoyle did not respond. "Cockroach Cluster," he tried. Nothing. "Lemon drop, Mars Bars, Pumpkin Pasty." He pounded on the wall once more in frustration. "Chocolate Frog!"

The gargoyle sprang aside. Half disbelieving, James sprinted up the spiral staircase, refusing to wait for the wooden steps to carry him up on their own. He threw the door in, immediately relieved by the sight of Fawkes sitting on his stand, and the familiar Sorting Hat on a shelf behind the desk, next to an empty display cupboard.

Behind the enormous clawed desk, Dumbledore looked up at him with an awe-struck expression that James had never seen on the Headmaster's face. He cleared his throat once.

"Please have a seat." He motioned to the large chair on the other side of the desk before taking out his wand, pointing it at a quill on his desk, and murmuring "_Portus_." Fawkes rose from his perch, grabbed the quill, and disappeared in a puff.

Almost immediately, before Dumbledore could speak, three figures reappeared, one holding the now useless portkey. On the left was Lupin, hair now bordering on gray in places, on the right Sirius, looking much like had always had, and in the middle a gangly young man with untidy black hair and startling green eyes.

James' breath caught in his throat. Harry.

He turned to Dumbledore to ask if he was going mad, but Dumbledore was no longer there. In his place sat something with terrible, slimy chalk-white skin and piercing red slits for eyes. When he turned, horrified, back to Harry, Sirius, and Remus, they were gone as well, replaced with a huge, towering snake and a rat-faced, balding little man who James had come to despise. Dumbledore's familiar office vanished, to be replaced once again by the plain stone walls of a tiny room, unblemished save for the rock pallet resembling an altar.

"_Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!"_

Loud, cackling laughter filled the air.

A/N: For those of you who wanted a happy ending, I apologize. I actually wanted one myself, but that's not where the story wanted to go. And yes, the "mistakes" were intentional, for anyone wondering. It was how James remembered things, thus Gryffindor's sword was not there, and Sirius was. And as an added disclaimer, I stole the transformation thing from David Eddings' _Belgariad_.


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